


Below the surface

by Howling_Harpy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Harpy/pseuds/Howling_Harpy
Summary: Carwood defies warnings about a cursed lake in order to feed his family.





	Below the surface

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr user tomorrow-is-forever-all-ours prompted me to write speirton fantasy AU, and so here it is, inspired by Finnish folklore. Beware of bodies of water, everyone!
> 
> I really like this idea, and I might write more of this AU in the future. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction based on the HBO drama series and the actors’ portrayals in it. This has nothing to do with any real person represented in the series, and means no disrespect.

Carwood’s family was small and facing tough times, and so on a Sunday morning when the sun was only coming up he took a fishing rod, nets and a bucket of baits and hiked to the lake in the woods in hopes of an easy meal. 

It was a risky thing to do, not only because he wasn’t that good of a fisherman, but also because the lake was evil. Everyone in the town knew it, yet no one knew exactly what it was about the lake, simply that one shouldn’t go near it, drink from it and absolutely never swim in it. The lake was in the middle of the woods, in the crook of rocky hills and surrounded by ancient evergreen trees. Its water was so clear it appeared black due to its muddy bottom and shadows of the trees, and it was so perfectly shielded by the rocks and the trees that it was always calm as a mirror. 

The morning light was cold and yellow when Carwood came to the edge of the lake. Mist was dancing across the calm surface 

For a cursed lake it was very beautiful, deceptively so, as he knew it to be cold and deeper than anyone knew. Carwood looked around him on the shore and found what he was looking for: in the middle of the reeds and tied on a pine tree there was a rowing boat. He didn’t know whose it was or how long it had been there, but it looked well enough to be sailed, and so he did.

The woods were quiet when he pushed the boat from the shore and leaped aboard, careful not to let his feet touch the water. The boat had oars, and carefully he rowed the boat further on the lake. He didn’t dare to go too far from the safety of the shore, but there would be no fish big enough to feed a family of three in the reeds, and so he rowed. 

Nothing happened. The quiet of the woods didn’t falter, and the waves of the lake sounded like any other against the sides on the boat. When Carwood thought he had found a good spot, he prepared the nets, cast them over, and then turned his attention to his fishing rod. In the next hour he did indeed manage to hook a beautiful silvery fish, then another and another after that, as poor a fisherman as he was. He gutted the fish there on the boat, tossed the remains over the edge, and then, satisfied, rowed the boat back ashore. For an evil lake, it sure was generous fishing grounds, and he decided to leave the nets in the water and come back to check on them in a few days.

He took the fish back home, where his mother was glad to have something so fresh and good to cook for her children, and so much that she didn’t need to prepare it all right away but could wrap some of it in paper with salt and store it in the ice box. They ate well that night, as well as the next and the night after that.

In three days, Carwood returned to the cursed lake. He found the same boat, pushed it from the shore and took it to the same place he had gotten so lucky days before. He had his fishing rod with him too, but first he reached for the nets. He had hoped there would be fish in the net, but all hopes of easy prey vanished as he pulled and found it too light. 

His disappointment turned into bafflement and worry when he pulled the net into the boat and found it not only empty but destroyed. At first he thought it had been torn only in one place, but when he carded through it more carefully he noticed how the entire net had been shredded, every eye torn open, leaving only loose strings on floaters. 

It had been a strong net, worthy for even sea fishing, but now it was destroyed. A shiver went down Carwood’s spine on that quiet morning as he wondered what had torn the net like that, but he didn’t allow himself to be spooked by it by thinking too hard on it, so he left the net at the bottom of the boat, took his fishing rod and started fishing. He had brought his father’s other net with him too, so when this time too big, silver-finned fish took his bait, he gutted them, tossed the scraps back into the lake and threw another net after. 

This time too he took his prey home to his family, but the shredded fishing net he hid and fixed on his own. 

Three days later, Carwood went back to the black-watered lake again. He took the boat, rowed to his spot and pulled up the net. The net was threateningly light as he pulled it up, and sure enough, he found it shredded just like the last one. Thick ropes had been snapped like they were nothing, ripped apart leaving nothing but holes too large to catch anything that could swim in sweet waters. 

He fished with the rod again, and still decided to try his luck with the net he had just fixed, tossing it overboard. As he did so, he did glance into the black depths of the lake, the water so clear he should have been able to see all the way to the bottom, yet there appeared to be none. For a moment too long Carwood stayed like that, leaning over the side of the boat and staring into the water, trying to make out what was in there. The little hairs in the back of his neck stood up, and quickly he pulled back. Hastily he rowed back to the shore, jumped to the safety of dry land and secured the boat. 

But this time too he had caught more than enough fish to feed his family, and this time when he once again brought his catch to them, his brother suggested he should bring back enough catch to sell at the market. 

“Take father’s old fishing nets and try with those. You have clearly found an excellent spot, so why not bring in more?” his brother said.

Carwood just nodded and promised to try, not daring to tell him where he went fishing and what had happened to the nets he had already taken there. 

Three days passed again, and Carwood went to the lake to get the net. He took the boat and started rowing, taking the boat out of the reeds and further from the shore. He pulled with the oars, the boat moving easily along the calm water, and he glanced over his shoulders while he manoeuvred with the oars to take the boat to the floaters marking his net. 

He had a strange feeling that he was rowing further from the shore this time. He kept glancing between the floaters and the shore as the boat glided along and could have sworn he had never taken the boat this far from the shore, but quickly deemed the thought silly. The net had weights so it wouldn’t float away, and it was simply a mistier morning this time, and the soundless clouds of mist made everything look different. 

He brought the boat side first next to the nets and pulled the oars up. It was dead quiet around, not even the water made a sound against the sides of the boat, and Carwood felt that too familiar shiver prickling at the back of his neck. Suddenly, he didn’t want to lean over the side of the boat and pull the net up. He didn’t want to put one finger over the side of the boat, let alone his hands into the water. 

It was a silly feeling and he should have pushed such a childish thing out of his mind, but he was alone out there, shivering in the summer morning. He decided to try the rod first and only then pull the net up last. It wasn’t like he had caught anything with that thing anyway, so fishing was the most sensible thing to do. 

Only today, he didn’t catch any fish. His line stayed relaxed and the float didn’t jump at all for a whole hour. Carwood checked the bait and tried different sides of the boat, but caught nothing.

Eventually, after over an hour of sitting there with nothing trying his hook, he had to turn back to the net. There was nothing he could do to avoid pulling them up, silly childish fears or not. He put the rod away, took a deep breath, reached for the net and started to pull.

It was heavy. He had expected it to be light so he hadn’t really pulled at it and found he couldn’t make it move at all. His grip slipped and he had to try again. 

Suddenly there was a hard thump from underneath the boat, so hard it made the tail end of the boat jump and water splash. Carwood startled and yelped, water splashing on him, as cold as water straight from a spring, and he quickly turned to see what had happened. He wondered if he had hit a piece of driftwood but immediately realized that was impossible since the boat wasn’t moving anywhere. 

He snapped his eyes back to the net that he was still grasping, and as he looked back into the black water he saw two eyes looking back at him. He froze on the spot.

There was something in the water, just below the surface, a pale creature with sharp bones, a shining white skin and two black eyes staring right up at him. It looked like a man and yet nothing like one, it had a human face that was too hard and shiny, too smooth and too white, with black hair that floated like fine algae around the head, and as Carwood stared, the creature opened its mouth, showing its red insides and two rows of pearly-white, sharp teeth. 

A cord of primal fear tensed and snapped, and Carwood yelled, throwing himself on his back in the bottom of the boat. 

There was a splash, and the creature emerged from the water, flopping over the boat’s side, rocking it and making it take a gulp of water. 

Carwood cried out again, scrambling away from the creature though he couldn’t get far in the small rowing boat. The creature was the size of a full-grown man and shaped like one too, only hard and smooth all over, so pale it looked like it had been drained of all the blood and with a strange green tint in the complexion. It had arms and legs where a human would, but they looked different, as if they had bones and muscles in the wrong places, and they had rows of fins as well as fish-like webbings where fingers and toes should have been. Its skin was hard and white all over, but in places it was covered in green algae and strings of clam shells and pearls as if it was wearing them. 

It turned its black eyes towards Carwood, showed its sharp teeth at him, and then spoke in a human voice. “Is nothing enough for you greedy humans?!” the creature shrieked. “You come to my home uninvited and even though I still let you eat my fish, still you keep trying to catch me! I will never go into your traps, human!”

Carwood, who had scrambled all the way to the other end of the boat and was grasping his fish knife in hand, froze when he heard the creature talk. Between that, its black eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth, Carwood couldn’t think of anything to do, let alone to say. “What?” was the only thing that he hiccupped, more a shocked reaction than any attempt at communication. 

The creature in his boat squirmed, fins flaring and teeth bared. “How dare you! You treat me like an animal that you can trap and drag ashore to treat as prey or a pet! I will not have it, you will see, fisherman!” 

The creature had fins lining its face, and it flared and shook them while it flashed its teeth. 

“I was not fishing for you!” Carwood sputtered, “I didn’t know you lived here – I don’t even know what you are! I’m just trying to feed my family.”

The creature hissed. “I am what lives in this lake!”

Carwood remembered fairy tales, nursery rhymes and childhood stories that his mother used to tell about evil creatures that live in bodies of water – lakes, creeks, rivers, streams, wells – and suddenly he knew what this creature was. “You are a water-dweller. A spirit of the water,” he said, “you drown children.” 

The creature flared its fins again and hissed, its hindlegs kicking like it was trying to swim in the air. As it spoke Carwood could see gaping flaps on the sides of its neck, gaps that he recognized as gills. “I do not, you insolent human!” it hissed, clearly offended. “I do not _drown children_, I like to _swim_ with _young men_! Do you think that all those delicious fish guts you baited me with could lure me into a trap?!”

“I’m sorry!” Carwood said, “I didn’t realize! I really wasn’t fishing for you! I’m not trying to catch you! I didn’t even know a creature like you lived here! Please don’t drown me, my family needs me!”

The creature narrowed its eyes at him. “I am not a creature! My name is Speirs,” it said. It seemed to evaluate Carwood’s fear with new eyes and with less teeth. It crossed its arms underneath its chin, leaning against the middle seat of the boat. “And I’m not going to drown you, human. But this is _my_ lake! You are allowed to be here, that is all.”

Carwood dared to lower the knife a little bit. The creature was a terrifying sight with its bottomless eyes, white glimmering skin and sharp teeth, but he was talking like an intelligent being and Carwood had to admit that he was beautiful once you got over the strangeness and danger. “I… I… thank you for letting me be here, Speirs. My name is Carwood,” he said, hoping to pacify the thing. To reach him he’d only have to lunge once and sink his sharp teeth into his neck, and he didn’t doubt that he was capable of that.

Speirs looked at him, his pale face suddenly curious under his dark hair. He tilted his head, pearls and clams rattling. “Carwood, huh,” he said, his voice smooth like a song. 

“Yes,” Carwood breathed. 

Speirs’ cold black eyes glimmered and flickered, looking him over. “Well then, Carwood. Thank you for the fish guts, they were very juicy and delicious.”

“Ah… O- Okay.”

“You are welcome to fish here to feed your family all you like, but don’t you ever throw a net in my lake again,” Speirs said.

“I won’t, I promise,” Carwood hastily said. He swallowed even though his dry throat protested, and lowered the knife. “I promise to be kinder in the future, okay?”

Speirs stared at him blankly for a moment, and then flashed him something that could have been interpreted as a toothy smile. “Just keep the fish guts coming,” he said. “Oh. And Carwood?”

“Y—Yes?” Carwood managed.

Speirs gave him another mysterious, sharp smile and fluttered his dark eyes. “I hope you’re a good swimmer.”

And before Carwood had a chance to say anything, Speirs gave a whole-body convulsion, throwing his powerful body back into the water and capsized Carwood’s boat.


End file.
